The Disgraced Blossom - a Hakuouki Fan Fiction
by VirgoGoddess88
Summary: Amanozako: she who opposes everything in heaven. Do you know what are the meaning behind "Haru" and "ka" stands for?" "What does it mean?" "Spring or clear weather." "And what about " ka"?" "Flower; blossom or it can also translate loosely to fragrance."
1. chapter 1

**Disclaimer** : This book is a work of fan fiction, it has no resemblance to any counterparts. Hakuouki Shinsengumi Kitan belongs to ideafactory! and I am not profiting from any of my fan fictions. I am the sole creator for the plot and the idea belongs to me. The Disgraced Blossom has violence; cussing and underline with same sex relationship so, if you are uncomfortable please do stay away. I also, publish this fan fiction on wattpad under the same alias and title. Please accept my sincerest apology due to my grammar mistakes, sentence flow and inaccurate details regarding the historical facts about shinsengumi and gangsterism. 


	2. Chapter 2

**CAUTION: CUSSING IN THIS CHAPTER**

The pitter patter of heavy rain drenched the dirt roads alternated into heaps of mud; noiselessness blanketed the area since shops were closed for business during eve. A vast of empty streets; there was no trace of humans exceptional of unearthly beady red eyes in the deep shadows of the alleyway that reek of urinal and wastrel. A streak of lightning bolt momentarily tinge in a flutter of of ominous glare of white beam followed by a clap of thunder.

Situated at Yoshiwara district; prostitutes and drunkards made up the boisterous vicinity. Even though, the downpour affected the flesh business yet in several brothels, merry voices sung infused by the intoxication and the lilt of female vocals abreast with their male counterpart. Sake sploshed generously while the geisha entertained their customers under the chilly weather.

Hidden in the depths of inky blackness, flurry of footsteps bounced in agility and slush of puddles soaked their hakama. Their feet encased in straw sandals.

Neither of the men whose expression wrought tremor to any being were affected by the bitter draft. There wasn't a hint of disconcerted due to the wet condition as their kimonos clung to their bodies like second skin. The band of men were out for blood and these particular group had their diligent target on a teahouse. The ominous ringing as their blades expertly glide put of the scabbard. Dutifully, the gangsters abide by the rules and awaited for the signal to attack from their captain.

The alleged figure assumed as the superior gave a slight nod and the faceless ronins haired forward in measured steps instead darted blindly headlong.

A juvenile attired in tattered kimono sheltered the emaciated frame, she trudged on the open streets undeterred of her safeness. Habituated in the style of living as a street rat, she tracked for handout set aside as rubbish.

Tonight, she reciprocated as every other day in anticipation for leftover morsels to ease her hunger pang. Even when the thunder rumbled in ferocity, an indication the lightning had struck a sapling nearby but the female continued on her nightly routine under the bad weather. A tabby mewled in acknowledgement as the stray feline gnawed on a fish skeleton in which garnered the human's attention; she gamely squatted and the cloth slipped a little to reveal a tender knee. In a blink of an eye, the snatched at the remainder bones of her only dinner in sight.

The startled cat scattered away in fits of yowl and hissed toward the newcomer before it moved on to another part of the town. she suckled on the skeletal with aftertaste from the cat's saliva in which tingled on the girl's tongue; albeit grateful for the scavenge.

Just then, a distant cry alerted the scraggly girl, she twisted on her bare feet to jerk a blonde head upward to acknowledge the moonless sky. Since she was somewhat close to the red light section. An unlikely place for an orphan to casually roamed about and her directly below a wide window of a brothel house.

Every night, as a voyeuristic figure, she was entertained by the jovial patrons and surreptitiously peeked at the wild camaraderies of either singing or dancing geisha as a form of distractions. The girl eavesdropped on adult conversations although she had no clue whatsoever.

At her heart's desire, the street rat would impersonate a geisha's dance sequence away from bird's-eye view from any drunkard customers. Thankfully, the young women of the Yoshiwara section had taken a liking to the pitiful orphan. Occasionally, they provided cooked meals without the consent of their strict superiors.

On unfortunate event, the madam of a brothel who was the least fond of the stray, attacked with a switch that would mark red welts on the frail body. Since there was no medicine at hand, dried blood stuck on the cloth and she would yelp in agony. The dangerous street was her only home; the idea that she could be raped never flitted in her childish mindset.

She trotted in alacrity toward the source of sound when the fragile being came across a gruesome sight; the torrential downpour had ceased just as a familiar figure in a elaborated kimono was hurtled in the middle of the road. Ear-splitting scream followed by a few grown men ringed a loose circle around the maiko whose torn cry fell on deaf ears. Just beyond her, a body laid on the ground covered in scarlet liquid with sporadic movement, it struggled valiantly to escape.

The girl was rooted on the ground to witnessed in time the whistle of a blade and that man's head rolled on the ground. The body had ceased mobility, he was not able to free himself from the people. The young spectator honed in on the countenance of that headless figure as blood sprayed from the open wound to bath his murderer, a crazed expression settled on the ronin's face. The unlucky maiko whom accidentally stumbled upon the massacre had been taken and brought to the killing avenue.

The body that was spread on the ground in the warm pool of his blood twitched slightly, the petrified maiko in process trembled in dread. Her ghostly pale face resemblance to a tortured spirit trapped in a shell of a body. The woman grieved aloud, she pleaded for mercy at the same time attempted to claw at the hand wrapped in her thick mane.

"PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE! L-LET ME LIVE!" she stuttered as bile threatened to discharge.

The captor half dragged the maiko on her knees, when the female's blurry gaze from the onslaught of tears stake out the dead man's body short of limbs. Finally, the psychotic killer mosey forward in a nonchalant gait that of which contradict his action. He fueled on the woman's caterwaul as she pleaded for her life. The sharp tip of the katana trailed on the dirt to the astonishment of that quiet onlooker, sparks of flame ignited on cue the maiko thrashed in the hurtful grasped of the other. The bewail attained in high pitch decibels.

"L-L-LET ME L-LIVE!" her chokeful cries drifted toward the lone figure ensconced in the darkness of the alley. "I-I PROMISE N-NOT TO TELL ANYONE!"

The man grinned manically when he crouched eye to eye with the blustered maiko, "you think I care?"

The low voice rendered the woman to pipe down, just as she came to realization the cold blooded murderer whose soulless gaze mirrors her mournful expression, voided of any emotions in him.

At last, he got upright in a steady stance, without breaking the connected gaze of the conceded prey. He raised a hand that clutched onto the sword and wield the blade downward to cleave his victim's head without any concern.

The blonde haired juvenile locked wide gaze on her friend's head which plummet between the man's shoulder width apart feet. Instead of waterworks, the girl remained firm on her bare feet whereas the vulgar scene reiterated in her chaotic brain.

"Hey!" a man's voice reeled the mute female back to present. "Look another bitch wanting to die tonight!"

For a second both the crazed male's and her eyes collided before she fled from the area, from behind heavy footfalls build up their momentum in hot pursue. The girl short on breath embark on a merry race, for the first time she experienced cold sweat as her little heart pumped behind her breastbone.

They managed to corral the panicked girl their mocked laughter for short existence when a man with pot bellied waddled forward and frightened the captive just as his blade struck on her bodice. A startled gasped floated from her mouth, rather than an open wound across the flat chest she displayed a naked form for everyone to ogle.

The piece of rag formerly worn to hide her modesty disposed on the floor; masculine guffaws ensued as a few dare to stare with evident lust. Even though the blonde haired female resembled a young child, she had blossomed into puberty stage. The ronins foamed from the crude images that included her.

"I think we should bring this one back to our place," the thinly male announced in noticeable hunger.

"And what?" the fat man kneaded a hand between his thighs. "You think Raiku sama will approve of it?"

"If Raiku sama doesn't want it we can still fuck this piece before we get rid of it," the first man who suggested the twisted idea retorted. "I want to try with young girls, older women are not tight between their legs."

Before the orphan could flee from impending death, the hilt of the sword struck on the side of her head when she lose conscious.

The victim flinched as her senses awaken from lacerated ache between her throbbing temples, she stare in dumbfounded at the span of inky black sky. Rain continued to drizzle in light shower, she was sprawled in nude on the moistened grass.

Her body wracked in shiver when a draft of breeze caressed her frame, the whistle calls from men jostled the girl's memory. In precise action, she wavered on feet to view in blurry daze at the encompassed camp grounds.

"She's awake," someone spoke up from amidst the reclined group. "What do you guys see in her? That pathetic creature is nothing but wasted bones and will probably stab one of you fuckers by the sharp end of that rib cage."

"What is your name?" a deep voice beckoned her attention from behind.

The street rat carefully shifted around to come up close with a fiercesome man, adrenaline pumped in her system as mortal trepidation overturned for survival.

Ashimoto Raiku disdainful gaze flickered over the scraggly child at the same time, cursed his men to kidnap a drowned rat back to their campsites.

The fools were a bunch of blind motherfuckers bewitched for flesh, Raiku scrutinized her; blonde locks chopped in uneven layers, emerald eyes peered from under the wet strands clung to her profile. A pair of flat breasts with rigid pink nipples from the cold. She was an eyesore, with a grunt he glared at the culprits.

"I don't need her here," Raiku waved his fist across the air. "Do whatever you please but if I spy this creature roaming in my camp tomorrow, I will make sure to gut whoever that person conjured this stupid idea."

The girl apperceive a ronin when rough fingers touched her spine, either she was possessed by a spirit or born in the cruel streets taught her a valuable lesson in persistence for enduration as a bastard. In split seconds, the blonde haired interchanged from prey into hunter when her hand shot backward to wrapped fingers on the hilt of the katana and pulled out in one act of spur from it's scabbard; the owner of the sword gawked in stunned surprise at the quick about. In less movements, the naked female snuffed out the bastard's life and entrails spilled unceremoniously, she slit his guts open.

After a moment of pregnant silence, shouts echoed throughout the campground, even Ashimoto Raiku-their reputed leader; his body an epitome of muscles and intricate patterns of a demoness incorporated with mythical creatures tattooed on his broad back. His foreboding presence was a force to be reckoned with, the gangster had earned unflinching respect from other secret society with his apathetic acts.

"YOU STUPID BITCH!" the crazed man who delivered both her friend and the man to heaven came forth in helter skelter as he clutched onto a sword. "HOW DARE YOU KILLED MY BROTHER! YOU FUCKING WHORE!"

As the blade cut across the air to inflict damage on the girl but she was able to block out the attack with an uncanny accuracy. She fought naked, undeterred by the pack of dogs. The atmosphere became electrically charged by the exchange blow of blades, similar to her attacker jade-green eyes exhibited no remorse even as the sword was a bulky excessive compared to her weight.

Before the enraged ronin planted the final kill, she executed a swift pivot on bare feet as the demon in the shape of a child dropped on one knee to drive the metal into her opponent's stomach. The girl managed to evade the sharp edge of his blade; a flutter of blonde strands floated to her feet.

The wet gurgle noise emanated from the gangster greeted everyone's ears and he spat thick liquid from open mouth to wet the front of his kimono as he collapsed on one knee. He blindly covered the wound with a hand, because just as she tugged bits of entrail came away.

His body trembled in recognition when the girl reenacted a scene at the front of a teahouse where he had killed off two innocent people. The tip of the blade dragged on the grass-blade but no sparked evident from the contact.

He flailed to stand upright because pride hung in tatters in front of his boss and the rest, lose of blood drained him of strength..

"Mercy."

His sweat dotted head shot up to gawked in stupor at the girl, she was able to talk yet in a whisper. A surge of anger overwhelmed the male because a rotten being ridiculed him. He eventually gathered enough strength to support his mobility; the last view of a pair of murderous eyes glared at him when the blade severed his neck and plopped like a rotten fruit near her feet.

Tangy blood painted her face in scarlet, a distinctive metallic odor hung in the air whilst blonde hair plastered to her sunken features. She brandish a name for herself, the group of men ill at ease.

"H-how did she.." the words trailed off.

Raiku was amazed by her ability to make use of a hefty katana, he brush off the low murmurs to venture toward the captivated being. If the girl was disciplined under good hands, she would be an remarkable swordsmanship. The head honcho had a difficult time to perceive the turnabout of the event whereas the measly victim became the attacker. She deceived her assailants by her outlook. He came to standstill in her peripheral vision.

"What is your name, girl?" Raiku interrogated the blondie.

"... Haruka."

 **NOTE: I write and publish chapters without a editor, so you will definitely spot mistakes. Grammar is not my best. I am very fascinated in the backgrounds of secret society especially Yakuza. Even though I thoroughly research about the histories, theres bound to have inaccurate details. But I hope that the first chapter got your interest and willing to read more. Thank you.**


	3. Chapter 3

Late, 1862

The bright sun bore down on the locals gathered against the tall fence to peer at the event unfolding. Low murmurs of inquisitiveness was shared amongst those in attendance.

The calmness; a delusory.

A few supposed soldiers were taking their stands to ward any trouble for the upcoming executions.

Their backs adjacent to those peeking from the wiry gape. Although the men, clad in blue coat with mountain white stripes on the lower sleeves earned appreciation visible on the locals expression.

 _Mibu Roshingumi._

A makeshift dais on the opposite as an official sat alongside a proud man whose name was Serizawa Kamo and Kondou Isami.

Standing at attention near to the dais were a company of men dressed in the same haori accompanied with forehead band; white cord criss-crossed and bearing weapons. Yet one clutched a spear in one large hand.

Their expressions as grim as the circumstance. The roshingumi were chosen as guards by the influence of their lead captain; Serizawa Kamo.

"... today, we shall proceed with public execution rogue samurais. Those participated in assassinations and brought havoc in Kyoto."

The voice ringing loud and clear when silence befall amidst the assemblies. Those guarding the fence heard an audible squeaked as a few leaned closer.

"Bring them out!"

A straight line of men shuffled together whilst being restraint by a cord of thick rope around their necks and hands tied behind. They were attired in a simple white kimono to commit seppuku.

Murmuration resulted, watching those charged for crimes were ordered to kneel by the officials escort.

A pole was set on the dirt before securing the rope which was cinched around their upper chest so their hands. A bowl was presented in front of them.

"Do you have any last words?" The official's messenger glowered down from his nose.

"Choshu will win the war!" The plump male raised his voice.

An escort was situated behind the yapping samurai, a katana between the strong gripped glinting from the sunlight. As one shoved a small knife against the perpetrator's hand whose feature was dull red in rage.

Those waiting in line, either gaze straight ahead or peered at the other. Sweat broke out knowing they were expected to reciprocate the same act one by one.

Although the said person had proudly proclaimed; reality was a cruel game. Fisting the short yet sharpened blade in sweaty palm, behind he heard the unmistakable clang of a katana.

Roaring like a true warrior, he inserted the cold metal into his lower abdomen before slicing it across. Wet sound of intestines spilled out before the captive could register a blade whistled in the air and cut his head clean off his neck.

At the other end, the mass of captains never flinched whilst one smirked a little at the display of bloodshed.

The same fate was bestowed to several men when three stood out amidst the other samurais.

Everyone's view was locked on the colourful back contrasted by the white kimono. A foreign despite not an unfamiliar vision of certain men exhibiting tattoos on their bodies.

They represented the vast community of gangsterism.

Rumors of yakuzas staking claim section of Edo had arose. Whereas the soldiers were prepping for the upcoming war, hoodlums from undergrounds begun their move.

The same escort paused near the trio kneeling three arms length from one another.

Squinted eyes visible with unrestrained rage as they locked onto the official. As numbers of convicted decrease the three gangsters neither made a sound or flinched.

The acrid scent of human intestines and thick liquid never detered either one. None cared about the ongoing war between high ranks. Even if they did, it was purely business reasons.

"It is said that association of tattooed men are running illegal business," the messenger read about their crimes. "You have exchanged weaponary arms with the enemy-"

"I am not part of these," a man last of the line growled.

"-henceforth, to justify your crime is by death."

"This is an excuse to get rid of us!"

The person whom retorted defiantly was well built. Crop white hair due to his matured age but the man's voice was rough around the edges.

"Be quiet and follow your other dead peers."

"Think I'm feeling fear?" He spat. "I will meet you in Hell and crush your skull, bastard."

"He doesn't deserve a proper seppeku!" The messenger glared before raising a hand high. "Off with his head."

All of the spectators at the back of the fence witnessed in silence as the man's head rolled on the ground as blood splurted onto the escort's front chainmail.

Another of the fallen's companion quietly slit his belly exposed, sporting a grim expression. Finally, last one of the same kind remained.

Sun warming his bald head as one sweat rolled down.

"What is the name of your gan-"

"Amanozako," He replied in a quiet voice.

A tattoo of the temperamental Goddess proudly displayed on the lower left abdomen. The gangster's eyes piercing into messenger's own who felt a chill down to his spine.

"I am not part of this exchange," he explained. "You caught me because we have tattoos and assumed I'm with them."

"We shall find each of your kind and flush them out once and for all!" The messenger spoke on behalf of his official. "We know your type very well, harming the innocents and stealing from the temple."

Mibu roshingumi's lead captain inwardly praised the other's resolute with no ounce of fear. Mildly musing about recruiting such men just as he peered sideway at a stony faced Kondou alongside a silent Toshizo Hijikata.

It was a perfect opportunity for all of them. Their current engagement would eventually spread by the aid of from Aizu clan.

"Pray to your Goddess to show mercy on your departing soul," Serizawa piped in all of a sudden.

The rest of the soldiers peeked at their leader seated regally beside the official. Serizawa's smile was cold.

But precious time was slipping away when the lone rogue gripped the handle of it's short blade firmly. Pressing the tip against the softness of his skin as a trickle of blood trailed downward.

The noise alerted him from behind instantly, succeeding in piercing the knife against the flesh of the escort's thigh.

A shrill cry emitted from the wounded man as another shot in the neck cut short of his life. The enslaved sliced at the rope, all of a sudden he came face to face with a "demon" in blue haori.

"Okita!" Someone yelled at the background. "Don't!"

Apathetic olive hued orbs stared down on the cornered man. The audible hiss of a katana as tiny sparks illuminated from it's sheath.

In lightning speed, the first captain of roshingumi took out the captor's head. But the killing was intigated for personal goal.

Speckle of blood dotted both his grimaced countenance and ruined both haori and hakama. The stunt head had halted near his sandal feet.

Gazing over his shoulder at a chuckling Serizawa and spying an appalled Kondou who turned away from disappointment.

"Carry the decease away to heap them together together and burn their bodies."

At the command, the rest of roshingumi soldiers set to disperse the still abuzzed folks and clearing away the headless bodies one by one.

October 30, 1863

The barbarous expression of Serizawa was lit by the sliver of moonlight as it appeared once again from behind clouds.

"So, you will dirty your hands with my blood, Toshizo?" He cackled. "Both Kondou and you are against killing-"

"We'll make Kondou san the commander of mibu roshingumi," the man attired in lavender kimono top and gray hakama.

The other captains stood behind: Sanosuke Harada, Okita Souji, Yamanami Sannan and Genzaburo Inoue.

At the entrance of private room a blonde haired female watch the men exchanging blows. She was handed a blade by Serizawa before the two of them were assassinated.

In the end, the victorious team neither experience elation nor dejection. They had to eliminate an opponent.

 **Note:** **that I have chosen to alter the history slightly yet remain loyal to the actual event. It is not easy to pen down meticulously. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and if you spot mistakes which is definite as well as grammar, forgive me**.


	4. Chapter 4

The fragrant scent of incense sticks burned in a Buddhist temple as devotees flocked in to pray for their well-being. Chants from monks buzzed in a low drone as a huge bronze statue of Buddha was situated in the middle.

An array of weapons laid in front of the sombre expression monk as he blessed each one. His slit eyes rose to the people cluttered in neat rows opposite him.

They were a formidable clan of warriors although ventured off into the wrong path. The tattoos showed a goddess whose wrath brought chaos to the world.

But one member stood out from the rest of men. A young female whose dirty blonde locks tied in a haphazard bun as a few loose tendrils framed her serene feature.

The monk continued his chants while a few of his fellow brothers hummed along. He had no business to interfere since these group guarded this temple with their sinful ways.

The swords were a reminder to the priest how many lives had been lost but it was a world where the toughest only survived.

A former ronin; the said priest was disgusted by the constant bloodshed so, he had chosen a life in a monastery.

Soon, the prayers were completed everyone stood upright. In silence, they each took a turn to retrieve their weapons and piled up in a line to exit out.

People naturally gave them a wide berth, surreptitiously peeked at the bare masculine chests covered in ink as one totted a bandage around her chest.

A sleeve hung over one arm to show off toned muscles from regular usage of the Hokuto and katana. Tanned skin due to being under the sun on numerous occasions.

Haruka sauntered in the company of her brother at arms.

She wore a plain black yukata over whipcord lean frame; white tape on both feet until her calves which matched on both hands.

Her mossy green eyes focused on the front.

The head honcho led the pack of hungry dogs. He halted to fish out coins to donate as the elderly priest whose bowed back from old age blessed him.

The female languidly shoved a hand in the front of her lapel. She was chosen as their commander in the gang, it was rare to view males who heed orders from a mere female.

"I want to have a drinking session," Ashimoto Raiku, their leader commented out of the blue.

A chorus of merry voices erupted whilst Haruka smirked a little.

It was a norm for them to retire at a local brothel house. Of course, this part of Edo was taken over by them even the whores were paid by the Amanozako.

"What'd you say, Haruka?" Raiku peered sidelong at her.

She was rather tall which credited to her boyish figure.

The duskiness painted the sky marine and sprinkle of stars detectable. Soon, night market was set up past the streets.

"I'm fine either way," she replied in a deep voice.

All of a sudden, someone bumped against Haruka as she peered downward at a child whose innocent grin cast at her.

"M-Miko chan!" the mother called out in a frantic tone.

Haruka pressed a finger in the middle of the toddler's forehead without breaking her stride and pushed the small human backwards with ease.

The toddler collapsed into her mother's open arm accompanied by an ear-splitting squeal.

"Oi, Haruka where's your motherly instinct?" One of the crew joked.

"I meticulously clawed out that gene," she retorted in a straight voice.

"Don't mess with our Haruka," Hachiman commented. "She'll rip your guts out."

"She's no fun," the first person whom horse around exhaled.

The blonde girl rolled her eyes in boredom. The men were a bunch of pussies when they weren't on duty yet she respected each one.

Everyone harboured secrets from the past.

Soon, prostitutes streamed by the side either tagged by prospective partners or beckoned others. The moment the women spied the Amanozako clan their excitement palpable.

"Oubu san," one waved a dainty hand. "Will you accompany me?"

The male chuckled before he shook his moppy head.

"I'll get back to you soon," he promised.

"You have a pretty lady calling you out but Oubu declines," Raiku spoke in a cheery voice.

The built male in late forties mocked the young man.

Haruka glanced at the leader as she recalled that one stormy night amidst the campsite.

It had been many years since that incident but a which moment marked the start of her life as a ronin. They have either gained newcomers or lost their own within those many years.

She turned her head upward to view the night scenery. Red lanterns strung across; bellows emitted from open windows and feminine voices floated.

They were located in a private room as geishas dance in front of them as a few sang.

The blonde head sat cross-legged as she rubs the back of her neck due to exhaustion. Haruka's sense of smell alerted her before a young geisha quietly chose to sit beside her.

The trained geisha began to pour sake into a cup and raised it toward her. Haruka grasped for the same cup at the same time ignored the other's presence.

"Do you want me to bring food, Haruka san?" The geisha inquired in a feeble tone.

Haruka finally peered at the flustered girl.

Bright eyes cast downward; the geisha's wig was intricate but Haruka apperceive the ranks and gruel lessons to be a woman of entertainment. They were different from to those who loitered below.

Haruka continued to peruse the girl's outlook.

"No thank you," she answered in a low tone. "I'll have my dinner at the local restaurant."

But the female missed the opportunity to spy the young woman's dejected countenance. Still, she remained by her side until Haruka got upright to leave the room.

A few glances were shared amongst the women who had the grace to share the same futon as the ronin. True, they were of same-sex yet Haruka's nature leaned more to the opposite sex.

"Haruka," one of them joyously called out. "Will you come to me tonight?"

"Find someone else," she remarked in a dull voice.

Once outdoors, Haruka paused to rearrange her knot on the top; that mere action caused the tattoo on the upper right shoulder blade to stir.

The appearance of the tattoo was a demon goddess; human in appearance yet nurtured a bestial face accompanied by the similar shape of a tengu nose. Droopy ears, needlelike sharp teeth and protruding tasks from its mouth.

She resumed her walk forward to the restaurant.

The lone figure pushed the nori at the anterior of a stall. Before Haruka entered, she figured tonight was a rather busy after hours. Wherever she ventured, she garnered all sorts of the peer.

Yet, a code of samurai which she never practised but abide by forbidding oneself from eye contact that could be conveyed as a challenge.

All the same, most were unaware that she was part and parcel of the blades strapped to her side. Literally born from the same womb.

The individuals acting under the restaurant roofs thankfully accredited the female's existence. Each greeted her with a wave and a nod.

She sat at an empty spot away from the raucous crowds.

"Haruka chan-" the waitress acknowledged with a smile.

"Yo."

"-the usual?" she giggled at the deadpan answer.

"Yeah."

"... the Shinsengumi are once again creating unnecessary trouble!"

"... Kyoto has been turned upside down because of them."

Haruka sat straight when the bowl of ramen came to view. With ease, she lapped up her dinner at the same multitask.

Gossips.

"I heard they are demons!" one asshole exaggerated.

The gangster snorted quietly, she shook her head in disbelief. Those Shinsengumi must be proud as gossipmongers spread dark rumours of them.

"... I know some of the samurais hail from Edo..."

"The politics are a screw-up!" another piped in. "Many shopkeepers are suffering from their actions."

"Shoko chan," Haruka gestured her hand up and down to invite the cheery girl. "I'll take my leave now."

She placed coins on the other's open palm.

"Come back soon, Haruka chan!"

She exited the stall to take a whiff of fresh air. Haruka had no place to call home unlike most of them. She'd rather be a drifter than settle down in one place. Yet at times, the solemn samurai wished for a roof.

She returned to the brothel, momentarily gazed up the windows, before a change of directions. A few steps ahead when a soft voice baited her.

"Haruka san!" it was the same geisha from earlier. "Where are you off to?"

Haruka concluded that the young female was on her way home.

"Nowhere," Haruka remarked. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh," she fidgetted nervously. "You can sleep over my place."

"I'm not interested-"

"Don't worry," she quickly cut off Haruka's sentence. "As a friend."

"I'm not your friend," she sighed aloud.

"But accompany me tonight without any involvement," she rushed with her words.

"Do you how suggestive it sounds?" Haruka arched a thin brow.

"Oh.. but I did not mean.." the words trailed off.

"Fine," Haruka shook her head slowly. "At least, I will have a place to sleep tonight."

"I promise not to get in your way," she beamed at her.

"Whatever."


	5. Chapter 5

The night air felt balmy as fireflies fluttered to close around the enclosed structure occupied by the young geisha. Night creatures begun to roam as the odd duo halted near the small hut, sheltered against a dense forest and the perky female quickly raised the bar served as a lock so as to slid the erected bamboo door open.

The host move backward for her guest to gain entreè whose facial expression at no time altered since the duration of their trekked. Sometimes, Fukumi speculated if Haruka made an effort to crack a smile.

For unknown reasons, the female experienced a dull ache physically for the lone being.

She savored in the ronin's enigmatic presence, without a pause the perky girl rearranged the kitchen area that incorperated in the same space as the living room. Rust metal cutleries with slight dents due to regular usage and a memory linked to her sicken mother.

Eldest amongst three siblings, Fukumi had travelled all the way to Edo from her small village at a vulnerable aged of thirteen. Thankfully, the kind men from the same community had accompanied thus built the hut for her.

"Haruka san, you may wear my yukata for tonight since I'll be washing the one that you're wearing," she beamed.

Fire was lit inside the small pit whilst Fukumi awaited for the water to boil so she could arrange both of their bath. The only noise resonated in the hut was from the utensils. Whilst the water churned, the geisha strolled for a pile of clothes to yank a comfortable yukata and ambled toward the figure situated near the front entrance.

Both swords were between her legs as one leaned against her chest; an arm flung over the crooked knee whilst another leg curved slightly on the floor.

A lone figure dissociated from the living world.

"You don't have to trouble yourself," she spoke monotonously.

"My name is Minata Fukumi," she smiled even though her boarder look fixedly at the dark yard. "Haruka san is my first guest, it is the least I can do for anyone who comes to visit me."

The young girl kneeled professionally to outstretched both arms covered by the flowery patterned yukata. Patiently, she bid one's time just as forest-green eyes collided with her own and that suffered years of unimaginable agony. Fukumi could only ponder.

"I won't wear this," Haruka's voice jolted her to the reality. "It's too short for my height."

"Nobody will see Haruka san here except for me," she shifted on her knees a little. "The water is almost boiled for you to take a warm soak outdoors."

Jade coloured eyes flickered toward Fukumi; obsidian shade whilst hazel shade waist length hair parted in the middle framed her heart shaped countenance. Their gaze locked onto one another differed by personal thoughts and feelings.

Intense and wary.

Hopeful and kind.

Tapered fingers contrasted against the white tape grasped the edge of the lightweight material as Fukumi allowed both hands to fall away.

She advanced toward the makeshift kitchen to carefully fetch the pot of hot water all the way to the side of the hut and returned inside to replenish the steamy pot with cold water to reiterate.

Comfortable silence reigned between them whilst in the distance, a lone wolf howled followed by several others.

Fukumi accomplished the hardwork to serve her reserved visitor after another round to pour water. The brown haired female bowed with both hands placed in front.

"Haruka san can have the first bath," she stepped back. "You may hand me your kimono and I'll wash them later after I'm done with my bath."

In silence, the stoic figure got upright languidly to haul both swords and the kimono fisted in her free hand.

The quiet geisha reappeared at the kitchen to cook a simple meal for two of them although she had no clue whether Haruka would care to share dinner with her.

All of a sudden, Fukumi had a flashback to the night she first met the blonde haired gangster. She endured nervousness since it was her first time to attend to a roomful of men yet surprised to spot a female amidst those vile mouthed hoodlums.

A small smile lifted the corners of Fukumi's mouth because of the instant attraction for the solemn being.

The sound of footfalls alerted Fukumi as she pivoted on her feet still in a hunched position in time to bit her inner cheek by the weird vision of Haruka clad in a cheery coloured yukata. The lower hemline reached to the middle of her calves and the sleeves slight short yet it was enough to set a range of flutter in her belly.

Unruly blonde hair usually tied in a messy bun hung past her collarbone; right eye covered by a loose lock as water dripped down.

"Here," she delivered the worn kimono toward her. "I've washed my bandages so, I let it hang at the laundry line."

"Alright," she got up with a smile. "It's my turn to shower now."

As Fukumi move outdoors, the chilly breeze a blessing indisguise due to her flustered countenance. Long hair swayed behind her back as she stripped down to kneel in the tub of warm liquid.

Upon Fukumi's return from the bath which took longer since she had both their attires to wash and dry. The ronin was in the same location as earlier, although her eyes were shut and blonde head rested atop her arms.

"Would Haruka san like to eat with me?" Fukumi paused to pull down the binds in front of the entrance.

"No."

"Alright," Fukumi giggled. "Anyway, thank you for accepting my offer to stay the night."

Silence greeted the geisha yet she was not offended.

"I hail from a small village named, Takayama," she begun to relate her story. "My mother showed signs of illness before present she became bedridden, she was a strong woman capable of taking care her four children."

Fukumi sat in the middle of the quiant hall. Lukewarm vegetable soup alongside salty fish and tea. She took the first sip of the broth and nodded her head since the taste was mild. Incomparable to her mother's homecook delicacies.

"I was the oldest and chose the decision to become a geisha even though Yoshiwara district was teemed with prostitutes. I never realized until too late, but it was my own choice and... if I had to soil my reputation then be it. At least I could help my dying mother."

Tears naturally trickled down her cheek. All of sudden, Fukumi yearned her mother's warm embrace; she covered her wet face with both hands which trembled from the overwhelmed emotion.

No consolations from the apathetic ronin.

Soon, the fatigue geisha was able to compose her runaway feelings and continued with her meal in quiet muse.

Fukumi got upright to amble toward the neatly folded blanket. She glanced over one shoulder to peer at her "guardian" of the night by the doorway. The tatami mat silenced her footfall.

The blanket unfurled in both gripped as she tugged it over the body. A hand hovered on the top of Haruka's head but retrieved away.

One final work remained before Fukumi could retire for the night; she lugged the utensils with a pail of water. Since she was overpowered by sentimental thoughts, the girl recalled a song her mother had taught her.

 _Sakura, sakura,_

 _Noyamamo satomo_

 _Miwatasu kagiri_

 _Kasumika kumoka_

 _Asahini niou_

 _Sakura, sakura hanazakari_

 _Sakura, sakura,_

 _Yayoino sorawa_

 _Miwatasu kagiri_

 _Kasumika kumoka_

 _Nioizo izuru_

 _Izaya, izaya miniyukan._

Fukumi eyelashes fluttered before dawn broke across the sky, her body was awake for the day ahead. She snuggled under the single blanket, before she glanced at the vacant spot the dark haired girl figured that the lone ronin had disappeared.

Both the borrowed yukata and the blanket neatly folded beside her head. Yet a gentle smile stole across her sleepy feature. She vowed to cherish last night close to her heart.

 _Even though it is a one sided love, my feelings will never change, my dear Haruka_ , she mused inwardly.


	6. Chapter 6

Edo, Yoshiwara

The nightlife soon begun for the crowds. People from all walks of life streamed along the streets; male and female prostitutes were literally put on display. They sat on the other end of a cage whilst men peered into the bar.

Of course, visitors were granted to stay a night or two within the brothel house for a pleasurable night.

"... I will have her!" Someone yelled to point at a pretty female.

The owner of the brothel entered the cage from inner to accompany a pretty whore assigned for the night. Before each man was allowed to pass into the building, weapons were frisked for safety purpose.

Geishas were able to roam freely unlike the "cursed" women. Most of the prostitutes were juvenile girls either bartered off to pay debts or sold off for hefty sums. Stories with different layers of bitter background.

Although they were taken care by their peers who shared the same destiny as them. Yet it was a rare case when a noble man fell in love for a prostitute to whisked away the lucky one from it's misery. And those with unfortunate fate passed on from the transmitted disease.

Hidden within the shadowy depths, vigilant sought the crowds with eagle eye so as no predicament arose in the bustle red light district.

Amidst the flock, a group of ragtag officers chose to spend their night for a round of alcohol. Each exhibited an aura of a precipice. Curious eyes from the side tracked them.

Weapons strapped to the side as a display of authority, the top dog of Shinsengumi had been requested from the Shogunate for a business affair.

Yoshiwara was a hot discussion amidst the Tokugawa Shogunate whereas Shinsegumi was assigned to assist the goverment. The watchful group observed several soldiers whom served under the Shogunate in the thick of both local and drifters.

All of a sudden, taiko drums emitted to filter the balmy eve.

Saito Hajime halted to peer over a shoulder to view the procession. Royal blue eyes spotted oirans in beautiful attire guarded by men. The entourage ambled in between the packed district and the play of flutes whistled hypnotically.

"Oi oi," Sanosuke grinned at the same time rested a hand on his right pectoral. "Look at all the beautiful women showing off just for us."

"This is an oiran dochu procession," Hajime corrected Sanosuke in a formal tone.

"Ease up, Saito," Shinpachi chided in a friendly banter. "Let us big boys dream a little."

"Don't forget why we are here," Souji remarked in a flippant manner.

The first captain, Okita Souji, sniffed disdain as both hands were shoved into billowy sleeves. Beside him, the vice commander agreed and ignored the festive atmosphere to order the rest to move on ahead.

The league of officers had taken several steps just as a piercing cry alerted the entire street. Their heads jerked toward the source of commotion as their trained body kicked into gear to calculate the situation.

In the middle of the band, a writhing geisha was in the clasped of a Shogunate soldier whom smirked at her.

"L-leave me, sir!" the woman wailed as she frantically wrenched at her dainty wrist clutched in the strong hand.

"What the hell?" Hijikata groused in frustration. "These bastard are always causing a problem."

"We must intervene quickly," Sanosuke nodded, the idea of a defenceless damsel tugged at his heartstrings.

"Someone is an absolute drunk," Souji pointed out, unison they changed the course of direction. "It'll be enjoyable to watch him receive punishment later on."

"You there!" Hijikata's imperative voice boomed across the sea of murmurs. "What is happening?"

The few soldiers shifted their gaze toward them. The troublemaker who generated all the unnecessary pandemonium swayed slightly on his feet, yet he never relinquished the pretty hostage.

"Who are you?" One of the drunkard's comrade questioned him.

"Toshizo Hijikata, vice commander of the Shinsengumi," Hijikata's voice brooked no argument.

Hajime's gaze wandered at the trio of men, the dimwitted acute tone indicated of sheer arrogance. Alcohol was the source to blame for their shameless behaviour.

"I said," the female seethed when their focal point was elsewhere. "Leave me alone!"

In flurry of agility, the geisha tugged at a hairpin stuck in her hefty wig, before anyone predicted the course of action, she had struck upon the befuddled captor. Blood spewed from his neck wound.

"What have you done?!" Shinpachi roared.

The remainder of the Shogunate soldiers gawked at the ghastly scene when more flutter of displacement ascended from the corner of Hajime's field of vision.

"STAND DOWN!" a man's voice ricocheted.

Frantic crowds were elbowed unceremoniously as dozens of men appeared out of nowhere; their expressions contorted in rage at the same time, katana clutched between their hands. It was illegal to carry weapons in Edo as of period.

Before Hajime and the other captains could react to the interchange, the other two soldiers were encircled by more newcomers. One of them had been tackled painfully on the ground.

A zori foot placed atop the back of the hunched soldier just as a sharp sword nestled behind his neck. The geisha was shoved aside whilst Hajime ogle the spray of blood coated on the woman's feature.

"S-STOP THIS NOW!" the third soldier yelled. "WE ARE THE OFFICIALS OF TOKUGAWA SHOGUNATE!"

"FUCK YOU!" a man with his foot on the other shot back. "THIS IS YOSHIWARA, YOU COME HERE AND LEAVE WITH NO TROUBLE OR ELSE, BEAR THE CONSEQUENCES!"

"I didn't know Yoshiwara has protection," Heisuke mused underneath his breath. "So why have the Shogunate sent a request for us?"

"What is going on?" a low voice broke across the spectators from behind.

Before Hajime gave a cursory glance backwards, a figure glide by in passivity. That person caught his attention by surprise; blonde hair in a messy bun as strands fringed her countenance.

A female ronin.

She continued forward to analyze the heated situation.

"This one messed with one of our geisha," the man who restrained his captive explained.

"Leader," another acknowledge her with a nod of acknowledgement. "Do you want us to punish them?"

"Wait," Hijikata intervened in a weary voice. "If any of you dare to touch the officials, more problem will arise."

Forest-green eyes finally pierced them; black kimono covered her lengthy frame although the hemline stopped mid calf. White gauze similar to Sanosuke and Souji's covered both the girl's forearms and calves.

But Hajime was caught off guard by the outlook roguish appearance; she almost attained his height.

He had never seen any other female closely resemble the opposite sex. Perhaps by the attitude on display or the mannerism she introduced herself. A hand casually leaned on the two weapons at the left side of her hip.

"Are these your people?" she interrogated Hijikata, an odd moment as in the custom vice versa.

"No," Hijikata crossed both arms to make clear he was not disconserted by the event. "But they belong to the Shogunate and we are the police force, Shinsengumi."

A moment of silence as the blonde haired ronin digested the vice commander's announcement. She tilted her head sideway and Hajime took in the form of her casual stance.

"The officials are planning to force authority on Yoshiwara," she informed casually. "What makes you think we will be lenient?"

"I am not in the mood to listen to your cries of unfairness," Hijikata answered in a mild voice. "But Edo is undergoing change and soon, ronins will also be flush out."

"Have you heard of the Amanozako?" her voice low yet rang with steel.

"Hijikata-san!" Heisuke gasped in realization. "They are gangsters!"

"I recall beheading one," Souji settle a hand on the hilt of his katana.

"Souji-san," Hajime frowned. "We are not here to pick a fight."

"Souji," Hijikata warned as well. "Do you want to add more stress on Kondou-san shoulders?"

"This district still belongs to us," she interrupted their midspeech. "When the time comes, you will see me standing at the front line. But for now, take your stray dogs before my men choose a method to deliver these fuckers to hell."

"You two!" Hijikata barked, the demon vice commander glowered furiously. "Get out of here, we already witnessed who insinuated the bedlam so don't even bother to put a twist on the story."

Finally, the gangster backed away to allow his custodian to falter on his wobbly feet. Everyone backed off when the female gazed at each one of the thugs.

"Inform Raiku-sama about this," she explained tersely. "Every detail and where is the geisha?"

Hajime followed after his team when they finally dispersed from the scene.

"This is a first for us," Sanosuke chuckled nonchalantly. "A girl leading a band of gangsters."

"Women are similar to flowers," Shinpachi took up the end of the conversation. "A fragile creature to be protected by strong men."

"Hajime-kun?" Souji jogged over beside him. "You had a strange expression earlier, care to share?"

But Hajime never took the bait; he tugged at the white scarf slightly higher on his chin. They had a mission on hand and centralized his introspection.

"Amanozako," Heisuke snorted as his bright eyes glittered in excitement. "I can beat the leader easily since she is a girl."

"Don't get your hopes up," Sanosuke mocked him. "We all know the result when Heisuke fought against our vice commander."

"It is all of your faults!" Heisuke shouted. "I was the last to be chosen and face against Hijikata-san!"

As they entered the vicinity of a teahouse, Hajime paused near the treshold to glance at the distance. But he was could not discern a black kimono anymore.

 **Note: I have added my own twist in the history. Because if I was to paste the actual fact then this book will turn into history lesson. Oiran dochu procession actually exist and it dates back to edo period. Also, Yoshiwara is guarded by Tokugawa Shogunate and whenever people enter, their weapons are kept at the gate. But I beg for your forgiveness for the inaccurate details and grammar mistakes**


	7. Chapter 7

1864, Kyoto, Mibu headquarter before Ikedaya Affair

Furutaka Shuntarô composed his perturbation so as not to acquiesce the opposition any sign of affliction. The barrack was a vast space but reckoned the location operated for interrogations.

The miffed male could not budge from the constricted rope farther abraded his skin raw: both wrists were constrained and suspended by the ankles.

Shuntarô recalled the early morning incident at his quiant store: Masuya; in which parenthetical to be his alias name as, Masuya Yuasa Kiemon. The shogunate officer's all at once descend upon his personal avenue and physically hauled him to the mibu headquarter.

The locals gave them a wide berth but Shuntarô had caught glimpse of detest and remorse for his state. If only the whole crowd intervened in order to release from the grasped of the officials.

The wide door slid open as several men cascaded from late afternoon heat, into the dim room since only a lone lit candle was hung at the far corner. Shuntarô's slitted gaze roamed at the force of nature; a man of tall stature with green bandana poised by the side of another man who was clad in a jet-black kimono.

Their upper body hidden in the depth of shadows, but Shuntarô sensed their burning gaze firm onto him. The leader of the wild pack position in reserve just as another figure strolled in. He halted to slid the shoji shut before resumed forward.

The newcomer had long onyx hair tied in a ponytail; Toshizo Hijikata.

Still, Shuntarô was not fazed by the ominous-looking samurais. He was mentally prepared for the onslaught and vowed to remain mute as a dedication to the ideology he had learned from Umeda Upin.

"Shuntarô Furutaka," Toshizo acknowledged his name.

In defiant, the prisoner spat on the floor due to the constricted and awkward post, sticky drool tracked down his lower chin.

Agony coursed through his body from the tight leash as well as from the rough treatment.

His keen gaze trace every movement to pause at the table situated to a corner; sharp objects set in a neat row: spikes.

"You have been secretly amassing weapons?" Toshizo enquired in a grim tone.

Shuntarô glared daggers when his spiteful vision was occupied by a spike in the commander's loose grip. But the culprit had been taught not to reveal any sensitive confidentiality.

Mayuri store; from outside was a harmless province outlet became a focal point for meeting sessions to plot against the Aizu and Satsuma. He was a server to pass communication between Loyalists.

Pregnant silence ensued on the tense atmosphere.

Both Toshizo and Shuntarô's eyes connected; he observe neither sympathy nor mercy when the first struck from the aciculate spike nailed on the heel of his vulnerable feet.

A shrill cry tore from Shuntarô's gaping mouth and his body twitch in response by the lacerating ache. He sensed wet liquid coat his feet and trailed down to dot the floorboard.

"Shuntarô, tell me about yourself," Toshizo's thin lips formed into a cruel smirk.

"F.. fuck you... Sho-Shogunate dogs..." Shuntarô hissed.

Another impact of the weapon against the injured area and he elicited a guttural yell. His feverish body accustomed with the mind numbing woe. The anguish man experienced another wave of convulsion when droplets of hot wax hit on the sensitive spot.

"Are you willing to share information now, Shuntarô?" a faint voice drifted in and out to his ears. "Or we can continue this, I am free from duties to look after your precious body."

Doggedly, Shuntarô kept mum but his entire frame begun to tremble from the pressure. A new spike dug into another heel which connected with the inner bones. Rivulet of sweat coated his flushed body.

The rest of the men in attendance analyzed his impalement procedure with straight countenance. Shuntarô's tear glistened gaze collided with eerie navy shade eyes; cobalt hair covered a section of his stony feature.

Initially, the captive passed out on multiple occasions as the event dragged on, but quickly regained composure only to experience more merciless pain. Bile rose internally to sullied the front of his crumpled kimono.

"Now," a soft whisper yet audible to apprehend. "Tell me whatever information that you know about your pitiful company."

"I... won't.." he rebelled in a wavery voice. "Sho.. gunate.. will... lose.."

The vice commander reared back before he twisted the imbedded reddish spike and heard the crack of a bone. The forearms were covered in Shuntarô's blood.

"Toshizo," Kondou cautioned from his stance. "Do not kill him, we need information."

"I know," the other replied with a single nod. "Don't worry, this bastard won't have a quick death."

Hot wax poured into the damaged meat; ear-splitting scream bounced against the thick wall of the empty room. The crude scent of discharge assaulted his nose.

"I.. I am the.." he finally relented under the harsh tactic. "I am.. Imperial Loyalist.."

"Continue," Toshizo stepped back with resolute gaze directed at him.

"I am adopted by a fellow Loyalist named.." he choked yet flinched violently when his captor came forth. "... Yuasa Kiemon.. thus I changed my name to.. M-Masuya Yuasa Kiemon.."

Even as he obeyed their request, the spike dangerously came close in contact with his torn muscles; a silent warning.

"They are meeting.. at Ikedaya Inn on.. July 8th," he continued to stammer due to consciousness.

He caught sight of the mibu demons exchange glances and returned their focus upon his dishelved figure.

"Why?" Toshizo snapped in a callous voice.

"B-because... the shishi plan to assassinate," he hacked a phelgm cough. "Kyoto and capture.. Matsudaira Katamori-"

"The daimyo of the Aizu clan?" Toshizo cut short his faltered sentence. "The cowards plan to create chaos under our watchful gaze?"

"We.. planned to retaliate.. Satsuma.."

"Toshizo," the commander's dire tone caught the attention of everyone in present. "We must relay this news as soon as possible."

"As you wish, Kondou san," Toshizo sauntered off but paused to stare over a shoulder.

Finally, Shuntarô was able to doze off fitfully even though he figured there was no possibility for him to walk in the future.

Shuntarô had no idea of his bleak future except he was under supervision by the soldiers. Mayuri store ran smoothly by an undercover so as not to arouse any suspicion.

The Loyalist had no other choice but to aid the Shogunate in fear of reliving the hellish nightmare within the barrack.

But Shuntarô vowed to retaliate at an appropriate time but for now, he kept a low profile.

On the day of Ikedaya Incident a month later, he received grim news about the deaths of many shishi during the heated clash. Shuntarô was able to walk free soon after.

But heart heavy with blind rage; the inner clock of his brain overworked and flitting memory of his torture when he was fully conscious assailed in colourful pictures.

The seed of embarrassment because he had begged for release. He yearned for the day when shinsengumi would suffer catastrophic results.

 _Revenge will be sweet,_ he mentally whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

Before dawn broke across the azure sky a lone figure arose from the futon in the confined hut. Bleary eyes forage a rustic pot to churn water before she prepare for the arduous journey home.

A few days ago, a villager from Fukumi's hometown visited to bear critical news due to her enfeebled mother. The elderly male was kind-hearted to traverse such a distance to fetch the young girl.

The low flame reflected in her desolate gaze. The day had come forth for Fukumi to depart home to her family even as her atrabilious heart was never able to accept the truth.

A lone tear rolled down.

She had filled in a request to the lady of the teahouse of her family problem and thankfully, the maiko was generous to accept Fukumi's hasty resignment.

The young lady sauntered to lift up the nori in the time slid the entrance's aperture to greet the early morning; she calmly inhaled crisp dewy air and exhaled from her nostrils.

Luscious locks flowed over her slender shoulders as Fukumi initiated to bundle her little asset after a brief meal of leftover from last night and a cup of tea.

"Minata-san," a voice greeted at the entryway. "Good morning, are you ready?"

"Wakaba-san, good morning to you," she bowed at the aged villager. "I'm almost ready but, can we travel later in the afternoon?"

"Eh?" he blinked in surprise by the odd appeal. "But it's a strenuous exertion, young girl."

"I know," she fidgetted nervously. "I promise it won't be late, because there is someone that I have to meet before we leave."

He sighed at the same time scratched at his tuft of snow white hair. He was a senior, but he was competent to pull the medium sized cart by his lone strength.

"Alright," he nodded in acceptance. "If you wish to, but who is that person?"

"Just someone that I've known during my stay here," she explained as a small smile formed on her plum mouth. "She is a ronin."

"Oh," he barked a laughter. "And here I thought Minata-san fell in love with a rich man."

Fukumi reciprocated to his mirth with a shake of her head. She invited Wakaba indoors and that the widower acknowledged gratitiously.

"I'll return home before the two of us set off," Fukumi notified softly. "In the meantime, Wakaba-san may rest for the upcoming sojourn."

"Are you going to see her now?" he enquired from the prone position on the tatami floor.

"Yes," she replied quietly. "I will not be late."

Birds tweeted merrily as their tiny bodies flittered from one tree to another; the grassblades in tune with the gentle breeze. Wild hares were spotted across the stretch of road.

Fukumi glanced down at her kimono that was easy to travel on but admirably pretty by it's pattern. Silky hair put up in a loose bun and tendrils caressed her fresh complexion.

Soon, the eager female buzzed in the heart of Yoshiwara. Variegated of attires swarm in her observant vision; clamorous sounds from bustling concourse drifted to her sensitive ears.

Fukumi conjoined as one with the morning hustle and bustle in pursuing Haruka; ebon kimono and messy bun perched atop the head.

Time was of the essence for Fukumi because the hour was brisk and they had to embark soon, if the two of them planned to rest at another town.

Baby hairs on Fukumi's nape prickled when she located a familiar stature at a stall. The back was presented to her nonetheless, Fukumi's pristine heart skipped in a double beat.

Haruka's tall frame isolated her amidst the mass of commonality. As of today, the ronin's mussed blonde hair trailed on her firm shoulders.

Haruka, she exclaimed inwardly.

A dainty hand outstretched as if to tap on the back evetually, she recalled that the gangster had once cautioned her when approached from behind.

"Haruka-san," the besotted girl signified her appearance. "Haruka-san?"

But the ronin never perceived her name in lieu, Fukumi draw near to poised beside. Cocoa tinted eyes peered upward when she gasped discernibly; moss-green eye beneath straggly fringe stared from the corner vision.

Mussed blonde hair framed Haruka's sharp feature.

"I have been looking out for Haruka-san," Fukumi set about in a low voice although the words were drowned by the fulminating vicinity. "Can we converse somewhere more reticent?"

The girl perceived a response; Haruka never swayed from the location in front of the cart stall rather, sunk pearly white teeth on a steam bread. Long tapered fingers cradled the bun.

"Haruka san," the nervous female conveyed distinctively. "I want to bid my farewell, because I will not be returning to Edo ever again. The reason behind for my departure is for my dying mother."

"Hm."

"I... will miss you," Fukumi's voice broke at the end. "Thank you, for coming into my life and as a token of memory, please accept this."

Fukumi tenderly pull out a small hair pin that was tucked carefully in the lapels of her obi: tiny ivory beads hung from a lone cherry blossom.

The hair accessory had been Fukumi's first purchase when she received her salary.

The blonde haired samurai brushed past, she ignored Fukumi's plaintive sorrow.

The hair pin dugged into Fukumi's trembling hand.

"I know Haruka san doesn't accept my feelings," she insufflate her breath to bottle up the runaway emotions. "This is not the appropriate time or place to discuss..."

Without checking on the person behind, Fukumi sensed Haruka's presence; she paused at mid motion. They stand in reverse and onlookers gave them a wide berth at the same time, peeked in curiosity.

"Oi, Haruka!" A tattooed man waved from afar. "Raiku-sama is hunting for you."

The soft footfalls of Haruka's zori continued, when Fukumi haltingly pivoted she was greeted by the view of unfamiliar faces but not the person to whom she had confessed to earlier.

*

The evening sun; a fiery orange globe set at the peak of mountains when Fukumi and her companion chance upon an inn to book seperate den. The clammed up female excused the offer to dine in a restaurant at opposite structure.

Perched on the ledge of the single window, she overheard boisterous exchange ground floor in which the topic was associated with shinsengumi and the latest Ikedaya incident.

The shogunate had made a move although Fukumi's focal point was elsewhere. The female toyed with the accessory as a tiny smile flittered on her lips.

"If only you gave me a chance to heal your pain," she whispered when light shower from the heavens drenched the people in the open space below.

Obsidian hair fluttered due to the windy atmosphere and hazel eyes flickered at the empyrean. She was inquisitive of the ronin; Fukumi won't be able to stop herself from loving Haruka.

Eyelids fluttered close as the exhausted girl reminisced memories of her time spent with Haruka and experienced a stab of agony. Their moment together was nothing much to fantasize about since the two of them only came face to face if the gangster visited the brothel section.

The quest for home had been several days too long due to their snail pace.

"Nii-chan! She has returned home!" a young boy hollered in joy.

Fukumi let loose a melodious giggle when all of the villagers gathered to welcome her. A warm fuzzy sensation clutched onto her heart as she was whisked off into a quiant residential and saw an old woman laid out on a futon.

Tears blurred the image of her mother when they rolled in copious amount. The pitiful reunion was soon to be cut short.

Fukumi had circle back to her birth place; their ghostly mirth of their past bounded in the depressive quarter.

Death hung in the enclosed space; impalpable nevertheless obtrusive.

"I'm home, oka-san.."

The grieved female delicately hunker down beside the immobilized being just as wrinkled eyelids fluttered wide to collide misty gaze with Fukumi's own.

The ill woman breath her last.

Note: Thank you for reading this chapter and my deepest apology when you spot mistakes~


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